


Always Gold

by holyroller



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Awkward Romance, Bickering, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Finale, Richard's Sexuality Crisis, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21778525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyroller/pseuds/holyroller
Summary: Pipernet failed spectacularly. It created enough noise to destroy GPS services, corrupt phone towers, and to piss off the government. Now Richard's in jail. Pipernet also managed to generate enough noise to fry the security systems that guarded nuclear weapons of mass destruction. So that's happening.Life wouldn't be so precious, dear, if there never was an end.
Relationships: Dinesh Chugtai/Bertram Gilfoyle, Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 11
Kudos: 46





	1. everything goes away.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thank you for clicking! Some suspension of disbelief is needed for this to all work. I'm definitely going to be taking many liberties with like, the natural aspects of it all. And I'm not necessarily a tech expert but, again. Suspension of disbelief. Pied Piper actually ended the world, after all. 
> 
> I have no beta, so please let me know if there's anything wonky! 
> 
> Other than that, enjoy!

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Not at all like this.

Nothing remotely close to this.

Things were supposed to go wrong. There were supposed to be several traffic jams all across the country. Phone signals were supposed to die, revive, and then die again. The network was supposed to cause a series of technological failures within devices across the entire country. The company would immediately be liquidated and disbanded, and that would be the end of it. It’d be an accident they staged, and all six years of his life spent working on the algorithm would have been for naught. And that’s the way it should have ended.

Not like this.

“Do you understand?!” the words come with a light echo. There’s three other men sitting at the table with him. One convicted for arson, another for identity theft, and another for grand theft auto. They’re who he’s managed to charm with his inability to speak coherently unless given two hours of prep time and note cards. Someone, Arson, has just asked how making a new internet was a crime. He’s gone out of his way to explain the algorithm, the fiascos with Gavin, and the final conversation he had with Monica and Gilfoyle minutes before he’d been arrested. The one where he assured them that everything was his fault, because it was always his fault. Both figuratively, given he was always the head of the company, and literally, in that it was his algorithm he managed to fuck up for over six years.

He’s gone for roughly an hour. The three guys watch him, genuinely entertained.

Identity Theft laughs and nudges Arson as he slips out of the table they’ve all been sitting at, “this guy _is_ a riot. There’s so much shit going on in that nerd brain. It’s like hearing a little kid babble.”

“But- but you do understand? How this was actually a crime?” He’s just looking for validation at this point.

“Yeah, yeah, your internet caused a series of accidents with the government or whatever. You’re a war criminal to them or something.”

The guards around them start herding the inmates back into the prison itself, just in time for him to break into an awkward grin and say, “close! The new internet actually caused enough noise to jam signals that weren’t on our network, resulting in a few military casualties and um, I think the disruption of several important international conversations.”

“War criminal Gates,” Grand Theft Auto says, as if affirming what’s just been said.

They call him Gates, like Bill Gates. Which would be flattering, he thinks, were it not a term of affection given by convicted felons. But, he is a felon now, right? Is he technically a war criminal? Does this count as an act of domestic terrorism?

His thoughts follow him all the way back to the cell. He’d been on his own for the past month or so, but had recently been given a cellmate. A man not much bulkier than he was, convicted for stabbing someone behind a grocery store with intent to kill. The man was nice enough, though. Kept to himself.

“Hey,” he says awkwardly, passing his new cellmate. The man, per usual, gives no response. And that’s fine.

The remainder of the day is spent lying in the bed he’d been assigned. Top bunk, staring at the ceiling. He’s had a lot of time to think. Well, not a lot of time, per say. It’s only been a couple of months into his lengthy sentence. But, added up, all those hours do… add up. He’s still thinking about what could have gone wrong. How badly Gilfoyle miscalculated the potential threat of creating that much noise could be. Still, it’d already happened. And despite his gut reaction, he was always their fearful leader. He had to take the fall. He couldn’t put Monica in prison, he couldn’t put any of his friends in prison.

He dozes off every now and then, only coming to when he realizes he’s had a dream. For brief seconds he’ll think that he’s fallen asleep in his office before realizing that, no. He’s in prison for the astronomical failure that was Pied Piper. And then he’ll keep thinking about the hostel. And then he’ll doze off again.

The next time he wakes, however, is just a little bit different.

It’s Stabber from the bunk below. He’s shoving at Richard’s legs, forcing him to sit up, his heart immediately racing. There are sirens ringing around them. Danger? Danger, his brain immediately decides. His muscles tense as he climbs down from the bunk to join Stabber at the door of the cell, the anxiety he’s all too familiar with rushing through his body, threatening to cause a revolt in his stomach.

“What’s happened?” he asks, looking up at Stabber.

“Don’t know,” this is the first time he’s spoken since they met a week ago, “looks like some of the cell doors are going haywire.”

Haywire?

He thinks.

The _electronic locks_.

Could it be—

No.

No, it can’t be. Gilfoyle stopped the signal entirely as soon as the accidents that got Richard arrested had happened. It was the simple switch of-- Son of Anton was … disabled? And there was no way of bringing him back unless it was for something else… that booted the signal up again?

These are all hypotheticals; he realizes as he grips the bars tighter. Because, no. No. Richard has no way of knowing if any of that is remotely true. He’s trusted Gilfoyle with things before and he has yet to let him down. This has to be an internal thing.

Both of them watch from inside their cell as other inmates run amok inside the prison. The guard force is out in full and they’re not faring so well against the inmates. Richard watches a guard get stabbed with a spork and inches a little further away from Stabber.

“Well, that’s not good,” Richard says as-a-matter-of-factly.

“Debatable,” Stabber responds.

CLAAAANK.

Their cell opens. Without a second glance, Stabber is outside and headed for an exit. Richard’s immediate instinct is to follow him. It isn’t until he’s reached the courtyard that he realizes that 1) he’ll never be able to catch up to Stabber because Stabber must be a fucking former track and field athlete or something and 2) he doesn’t even _know_ Stabber. There are several inmates climbing the fence outside. Richard considers trying the same, but he has no upper body strength. Or any body strength at all. He’d never make it.

“Hey, you!” A guard calls out from behind him. Shit.

His brain enters flight or flight mode and decides that he has to make it now.

He takes off for the gate, watching the guard follow him instead of looking where he’s running, until he collides with a very, very hard surface. It’s a car.

"Richard!” Jared yells from the driver’s seat.

Fucking what?

“You killed Richard!” that’s Dinesh.

“Still moving, I got it,” that’s Gilfoyle.

In a matter of seconds Richard’s completely dazed body is hoisted upward and it takes his brain several seconds to catch up with what’s happening. He’s just been hit by a car. Not just any car. Dinesh’s Tesla. And Jared is driving. Monica is in the passenger seat. Gilfoyle has stepped out of the car and is currently shoving, borderline throwing, Richard into the backseat at Dinesh.

“Hey!” Dinesh yells, shoving Richard back at Gilfoyle as the backseat door closes behind them. Jared reverses and takes off at an alarming speed.  
“Richard, are you okay?!” Monica and Jared yell simultaneously.

“Guys, what the _fuck_!?” Richard yells as soon as his motor skills catch up with the panicked daze he’s fallen into, realizing that he’s being busted out of jail. If the guys brought back the Pipernet signal for the purpose of breaking him out of prison he may as well just kill himself as soon as they get to wherever it is they’re going. There’s no way he’s getting out of prison once they arrest him again.

“I know this seems a little impractical and reckless, but I can assure you that there’s a very good reason for this,” Jared starts. He was always the best with words.

“The world is ending, Dick.”

The car falls silent and Richard takes an entire five seconds to process what he’s just heard. The world? Ending? Is that one of Gilfoyle’s Satanic prophecies? What? 

“What?” Richard asks.

“Nuclear launch codes, my friend. Pipernet managed to fry the security behind them with all the noise it caused and a warning went out roughly twenty minutes ago that they were beyond saving so they’ll either self-destruct, causing the most glorious act of capitalistic interest to ever be witnessed by the masses or they’ll get sent to another country. And then they’ll send us their nuclear weapons in response. Best case scenario we die in two hours instead of one and fourty five minutes.”

“Wh- what. I- No. Hold on. The. What. I-”

“Yes, Dick. Our Pipernet.” Gilfoyle, ever the emotionless one. He’s somehow managed to tell Richard that he’s going to have caused the end of the world and there’s still a disinterested look on his face.

Richard breaks. He can’t really handle this right now. He lurches forward and throws up into the cupholders meant for backseat passengers. His ears pound and he doesn’t hear Dinesh complain about the mess he’s made in the Tesla. 

“Do you think that there’s anywhere that’ll take us?” Jared asks Monica.

“Every place that still has a fallout shelter is probably packed right now. Not to mention I’m sure all of the Valley’s millionaires have gone to buy out fallout shelters,” Monica responds. There’s panic in her voice.

“We have two hours! What are we going to do?!”

“We have about an hour and a half,” Gilfoyle corrects, “we can decide whether we want to save ourselves or save whatever we have to leave behind.” 

“How the fuck are you so calm about this!?” Dinesh yells at him, over Richard, who’s still bent over, burying his face in his own lap as much as he can. 

Gilfoyle shrugs, “I do not fear death. The good books, mine not yours, foretold of man’s greed, man’s arrogance being what finally kills us.”

“You’re fucking insane!” Dinesh yells back.

“Albeit a bit… blunt, I think Gilfoyle is right. We have to decide what we do right now. Monica?” Jared has reached a piece of traffic that’s stopped entirely. People are leaving the Valley, which is ludicrous to think of. Given that if there is a nuclear explosion of any kind imminent, no amount of distance will keep them away from what’s about to happen. 

Richard finds his words, his ability to sit up without throwing up again, and most importantly, his brain, and he sits up. 

“Fuck what we have to leave, can we find somewhere to stay?”

“You know… Gavin might have something.”

“He’d sooner kill us than let us even reach his house at this point,” Richard contradicts, the panic in his tone very audible.

“And he actually can. Given the world will cease to be, nothing really matters anymore. I could finally kill Dinesh.”

“Not before I kill you first, you Canadian fuck!”

“Hey, hey, I know tensions are high but, gentlemen, we have to remain calm,” Jared calls from the front.

“We’re going to fucking die, Jared! And on top of it all, it’s our fault!” Dinesh yells back.

“In our own defense, that doesn’t really matter now, either,” Gilfoyle adds.

Richard’s begun hyperventilating. He’s covered his face with his hands and has been trying to get his brain to work again for the past minute or so. None of them have many friends in the Valley. No billionaires-

“Russ,” Richard says, eyes widened as he lowers his hands, “we call Russ Hanneman.”

“Yes, Richard! Good!” Jared calls from the front, “the only problem with that is Russ lives across town and we have been stopped here for the past five minutes.”

Gilfoyle checks his watch, “that leaves us with less than an hour and a half.”

“Fuck!” Dinesh yells, slamming his fists onto his own lap, “fuck! It may sound selfish of me, but I don’t want to die!”

“None of us do,” Monica snaps back. The panic in her voice momentarily masked by irritation.

“Okay, fuck it,” Richard takes initiative and attempts to climb over Dinesh, who doesn’t take too kindly to the sudden pile of skin and bones being thrown at him.

“Hey- ow! What the hell, Richard!?” Dinesh tries to get Richard off of him, but Richard manages to get the door open and clambers out like an awkward spider. 

“I’m walking!” he says, abandoning the crew, his friends, that had not too long ago busted him out of prison without a second glance.  
Because they’ll follow him. They always do.

“Richard!” Jared is out of the car within seconds. Monica shouldn’t be too far behind. And seeing as they can’t rely on each other to do anything except bicker, Dinesh and Gilfoyle should be right behind them.

“Are you in any condition to walk?” Jared asks, attempting to gauge Richard’s potential injuries from just looking at him. 

And Richard feels fine, at least. If being hit by a car has caused him any physical injury, he can’t feel it right now. He’s too focused on trying to push the fact that he is single handedly responsible for causing the end of the world out of his brain in favour of seeing if Russ Hanneman is willing to do one more favour for the Piper-Crew. Haha, that’s funny. The Piper-Crew.

“I’m fine, Jared,” Richard says, mostly believing it. 

“And I’m so so sorry for hitting you with a car of all things. It was entirely an accident, I’d never willingly hit you, Richard,” Jared’s very worked up about this now.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” Richard keeps walking as fast as his skinny legs can take him. 

“And what if Russ says no?” Monica’s caught up to them. Richard turns to look at her and out of the corner of his eye he can see Gilfoyle. And that means Dinesh must be on the other side. 

“I don’t know, Monica,” Richard says, honestly, “I don’t know what we do then, but right now this is the only idea I have.”

“We could have gone to Gavin…” Dinesh muses from behind.

“We could have killed him first,” Gilfoyle offers.

“Did you just agree with me?” Dinesh asks, more concerned that Gilfoyle could be agreeing with him than the suggestion of murder.

“None of us are murderers!” Monica snaps, ending that dialogue. Mostly.

“Never,” Gilfoyle assures Dinesh.

“Russ likes us, okay. And Gilfoyle, you like his tequila. It’s a good look for us. He’ll say yes,” Richard says to himself moreso than anyone else. He tries to not look at what’s around them. The long, long lines of cars trying to get out of the streets. The people walking out of their houses with suitcases. The people crying in the streets. Don’t they have anywhere better to cry? Why do it out in the street where Richard can see them? What’s he supposed to do, go up to every single one and apologize? He wouldn’t be able to get them all.

People are also staring at him, but he figures that might be from the orange jumpsuit he’s still wearing. He is definitely still an inmate and it dawns on him that someone may recognize him from his mugshot that was surely broadcasted all over the news when he was arrested. He walks a little faster.

At some point, as they near the street Richard remembers Russ living on, Gilfoyle takes off in a sprint ahead of them.

“Five minutes!” he yells as he passes Richard, Jared and Monica.

“What the fuck!” Dinesh yells, following him. 

Richard’s stomach does exactly three somersaults and his entire body has stiffened to the point where he’s actively aware of every step he’s taking. Jared takes him and Monica by the arms and runs. Richard won’t admit to the convenience of having Jared drag him along, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

They make it to Russ’ door, which is conveniently unlocked and they head straight down as soon as someone finds a staircase leading downward. They make it to a large door that appears to be a giant slab of concrete with gold etching. 

“Russ!” Richard knocks on the door, or more like, slams his fists against the door. Monica does the same. Jared helps. Dinesh is screaming. Gilfoyle, as always, only watches.

It takes a whole ten seconds of tense, horrifyingly awkward silence. But, the door opens. It slides up in a painfully slow motion that makes those ten seconds thirty. But, sure enough. Russ Hanneman grins at Richard as if he’s welcoming the prodigal son.

“Baby’s first prison break!” he yells, reaching forward to pull Richard into a hug.

“Russ,” Richard says, choking on his words, his stomach only seconds away from betraying him, “we need- in.” 

Russ lets him go and gives them a nod, “no can do, fellas. And lady,” he says as he looks at Monica.

“You’d just leave us out here to die!?” Dinesh interjects.

“Don’t think of it like that. Where else would-” Russ starts, before getting cut off by Gilfoyle.

“We have exactly one minute before the world ends. We would appreciate entry. Now,” Gilfoyle’s monotone has _still_ yet to change. 

“We actually have ten minutes. I got a counter on my TV over there,” Russ gestures behind him. A news channel is broadcasting what time is left. It does in fact say ten minutes. Russ continues, “and since we have so much time. How about I grab us a bottle of Tres Commas and we celebrate the last time I'll be seeing any of you? One second. I have an unopened bottle upstairs that I was just gonna let go to waste. Good thing you guys came.”

Russ takes off upstairs.

The second he’s out of earshot Gilfoyle turns to look at Richard, “I suggest we get inside.”

“Yeah,” Richard says as they all take the rushed steps inside.

“Five, four, three. Two, one,” Gilfoyle counts down. As if on cue, the TV cuts out. A loud roar is heard outside. It’s what Richard imagines a dragon would sound like. Or if Godzilla was real. It’s a deep, low gutteral sound that’s probably going to haunt him for years.

“Richard, the door,” Monica says. Her eyes are widened and there's raw fear in her tone.

“R-Russ isn’t back yet,” Richard says, turning awkwardly. His stomach is going to betray him in five.

“The world is being nuked, Richard!” Dinesh yells.

Four.

Richard and Gilfoyle scramble to the console that Russ had used to open the door.

Three.

Gilfoyle presses a button and Richard presses another.

Two.

Gilfoyle confirms the sealing of the door.

One.

Richard drops to his knees in front of the console and the door. He throws up anything he’s ever eaten, stomach acids, his internal organs, and his courage. And he stays there, head pressed against the ground breathing heavily. There’s a ringing in his ears that he can’t shake and the room feels like the walls are caving in. There’s a hand on his shoulders and a voice speaking to him but there’s too much interference. He can’t hear it, it’s too far away. He’s crying now, but he can’t focus on anything long enough to try and make his hands rub at his eyes. The only thing he can be certain of is the feeling of impending doom that he’s been feeling all day has now turned into an assurance. 

He’s going to die.


	2. yeah, everything goes away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! It's been months and I've had this written up for a while but only now managed to comb through it a bit and get it as straightened out as i can. this Does have it all. tenderness, stupidity. legitimate anxiety. 
> 
> comments are appreciated! i hope everyone's been safe out there.

The sound of arguing is what brings him to consciousness. 

“You’re completely insane and I’m not going to be a part of this,” it’s Dinesh. He’s very upset. Which, these days, isn’t necessarily a new thing. For the past month or so the man’s been highly volatile. Even Gilfoyle has succumbed to the changes in temperament. Which isn’t to say he tries to appease Dinesh, but he has stopped purposefully trying to get a rise out of him.

“We don’t have any other choice,” Gilfoyle says, in that same disinterested tone.

“I don’t like it either,” Monica chimes in.

Now’s when Richard decides to lift himself into a sitting position on the ground. He makes eye contact with Jared first. Jared’s got the look of a lost puppy on his face. Dinesh is seconds from throwing a fit and Jared’s focused on Richard. Richard, instead of inquiring what’s going on, has to look away instead. He’s just woken up from what has to be a couple hours of sleep and he’s sure there’s dried saliva on one side of his mouth. And he’s been sweating at night again. It’s unseemly. He’s embarrassed.

“Because it’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard!” Dinesh yells.

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Monica responds. Her tone’s raised enough to show that she’s just as concerned. 

Richard instead gets up in a rush, going over to the large bowl they’ve been using as a sink. The bottle they’ve designated as the ‘running water’ is nearly out and they don’t have anything to refill it with. He dampens his hands and runs them over his face, washing away the saliva and making himself feel presentable. 

Jared’s still watching him.

“What’s going on?” Richard asks finally.

“We need to go explore the outside, Dick.”

“What?” Richard’s taken aback by the idea. 

Because it’s a lot to take in seconds after you’ve woken up.

“It’s crazy, right?” Dinesh looks to Richard for validation. 

“I- how’s our rations?” Richard looks back at Jared, who’s been tuned into the conversation now.

“We have enough for maybe another month or so? Maybe less,” Jared says, his own tone wary. 

“Shit, really?” Richard asks, fully aware that Jared has been eating the bare minimum and that he himself has fallen into a depressive spiral that means he doesn’t really eat every other day. And they’ve been in the bunker for …

“How long has it been?” Richard asks.

“A year.”

“Eleven months.”

“About a year.”

“We’ve been down here for nearly a year.”

They speak in unison, but Jared finishes last. Richard sits back down and rubs his hands over his face. And then through his hair. Jared sits next to him.

“We either take our month and accept that we’re going to die slowly of starvation. Or we go out there and see what’s left of the world,” Gilfoyle lays his argument out flatly. 

“Or we go out there and get vaporized by the immediate nuclear radiation,” Dinesh adds. 

“Also a possibility,” Gilfoyle says, crossing his arms. 

“I really don’t like either of those options,” Monica says, “but if I have to choose how I die, I think being vaporized by radiation is probably the most painless.”

“It may not even be vaporizing. What if you grow a second head? Get a nuclear infection in your eyes?” Dinesh really doesn’t want to go outside. 

“I think,” Richard starts, “that we should wait it out.”

“Finally! Someone who hasn’t lost their mind,” Dinesh takes a few steps over to Richard. 

“What do you think?” Richard looks at Jared.

“I… am with Monica on this one. If it’s all the same to all of you, I would also rather be vaporized than starve,” Jared gives Richard an apologetic look.

“So, it’s decided. We use whatever we have and gear up to go outside,” Gilfoyle says as he uncrosses his arms and heads over to the corner he’s been using as his own space. 

“This is insane. It’s insane,” Dinesh says as he walks to his part of the room that also happens to include the only bed in the bunker and _also_ is next to Gilfoyle’s, “you’re insane.” 

“Sorry, Richard,” Jared says as Monica retreats to the other side of the room, her designated side.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Richard says. Rubbing his face with his hands again, “and you’re probably right. I just don’t want to see what’s out there. If there’s anything out there.”

“Richard,” Jared says softly. His eyes are just as tired as Richard’s own. The dark circles are reminiscent of when Jared was stuck out at sea, “have you been sleeping at all?”

“Yeah, yeah. I have. A little,” Richard says, crossing his arms and curling into himself. 

“That’s good. That’s really good. You should eat today,” Jared speaks in these light, gentle tones that should be comforting, but it’s Richard’s immediate reaction to feel like he’s being treated like a child. 

“I will, Jared. I have been eating,” Richard says, getting up to pace the room. It’s incredible how they really have all managed to survive an entire year in each other’s presence and not kill each other. 

Jared looks down at his lap, cupping his hands together in an awkward gesture of pause. He looks back up at Richard with a little more determination and says, “you don’t have to lie to me, you know. We’ve all seen what you’ve been going through, what it’s done to you. If I could make you feel any other way, I would.”

If Richard could bring himself to hit Jared, he would. The kindness is frustrating. Frustrating in that Jared’s unconditional kindness, his unwavering loyalty is wasted on Richard. He settles for sighing and staring at his shoes. 

“You’re right, you’re right. We…,” Richard sits back down. He speaks in a whisper and looks over at Gilfoyle, “we’re… responsible for all of this.” 

“I know you believe that,” Jared keeps the apologetic look on his face as he comes to a pause. He’s not entirely sure what to say, it seems. 

“It’s the truth,” Richard says with a shrug. 

Jared purses his lips together, the sympathetic expression maintained as he puts his hand on Richard’s shoulder. He offers,“if it’s any consolation, I don’t think Gilfoyle views it the same way.”

Richard rolls his eyes and only slightly jerks away at the touch, “that’s probably because Satan’s told him it was his duty or whatever.” 

“Well, whether that’s true or not, maybe you should try talking to him about it,” Jared says, awkwardly pulling his hand away. 

“I don’t know,” Richard says with a shrug. He doesn’t look at Jared. “I want to go back to sleep,” he says instead.

“We could ask Dinesh if he’d let you use the bed? I’m sure Monica would oblige the couch,” Jared offers.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll ask. I just. I need a minute,” Richard gets up again, heading for the only place of privacy any of them have. The bathroom. 

The door shuts behind him and he’s met with the grandiose display of wealth that was the bathroom structure installed into a fallout shelter. The walls are an off-white colour, the floors are granite, and there are large mirrors set everywhere. Someone had a fit in here a few months ago, so two of the mirrors were smashed. No one’s asked who it was. All Richard knows is it wasn’t him. 

He makes his way to the large pink bathtub that’s outfitted to be a jacuzzi. No one but Richard has ever used it, given they’ve been trying to preserve water since day one. And when he has used it, it’s for this specific purpose. 

He’s climbed inside and gets curled up into a fetal position.

And he breathes. 

The world has ended. Has _been_ ended and somehow he’s still alive. He did this, his code did this. He’s at fault for having ended the world. And he gets to live? He gets to live to see the spoiled fruits of his labour? And everyone else who had the unfortunate circumstance of living at the same time as he did, they’re all dead now. Was that fair?

He’s glad he’s alive. He’s glad his friends are alive. But, is it fair?

That’s why he’s pressing the side of his face onto the cool porcelain of the tub and trying not to choke on his own deep breaths.

It’s a cycle of the same thoughts, with the same questions posed and ultimately concluding with the same answer. No, it wasn’t fair. Richard did this. He was the captain of the Piper ship and he did not go down with it. It wasn’t fair that everyone else did. 

A knock comes at the door.

“Richard!” it’s Dinesh, “hurry up in there!”

“Coming!” Richard yells back. He’s not necessarily ready to move on, but time seems to move slowly for him when he has to sit back and think about what’s happened in the past year. About Monica having to reign them all in at one point or another, herself included. About Jared being unable to really process what’s happened, especially not the part where Richard is primarily responsible. About Dinesh and Gilfoyle really… seeming okay despite everything that’s happened.

That’s odd, Richard thinks. He blinks hard and another knock comes at the door before he can really delve in and overthink what that could possibly mean. He forces himself out of the bathroom and lets Dinesh have the room.

Jared’s waiting for him on the outside. They make eye contact the second Richard steps out of the bathroom and he instead heads back towards Monica. She’s sitting cross legged on the couch, writing in a notebook she’d found. 

“Monica?” Richard asks, approaching her with what would appear to be caution. 

She looks up at him, eyebrows slightly raised. She’s curious and is definitely used to Richard’s awkward demeanour, “what’s up?” she asks.

“Do you mind if I uh,” he says, gesturing to the couch, “I’m really tired still and um-”

“Come here,” she says, with a slight eye-roll that is most likely from the fact that he’s all but seen her naked in the past year and still can’t ask her to move so he can nap on the couch. He sits at an angle at first, trying to curl into himself at the corner, so as to not disturb her. It occurs to him that maybe he’s not tired.

“You are. Ridiculous,” she says after a few seconds of watching him squirm in sad attempts to get into a comfortable position, “come here.” She reaches over and guides him down so his head is resting on her lap.

“You-you’re sure this is okay?” he asks. Not that he’d ever… been interested in Monica. He’d never really been interested in anyone, he thinks. There’d been girls here and there. Rarely, sure, but there were some. He’d spent so much time hanging around his friends and other guys in the valley that he never really had time to think about women. Not that Monica wasn’t pretty. She is, he thinks. Is she? He can’t look at her now, it’d be weird. She’d think he was-

“I’m in perfect positioning to snap your neck, should you try anything,” she says with a little grin, somehow reading his thoughts. Her hands are actually by his face, he realizes. And- oh, god. Is she into him? She’d never shown any sign of anything but annoyance and sometimes understanding toward him before. She couldn’t possibly-

“I’ve been talking to Jared,” she says in a lower voice, looking down at him with… concern? He can’t really tell from this angle. She’s got her hands in his hair, fingers just kind of messing with his unruly curls.

“Wh-what about?” he asks. He’s only slightly uncomfortable now. He’s way more comfortable than he was on the ground and at the corner of the couch a few seconds ago. Her mentioning Jared just seems to awaken an awkward feeling in him. 

“He worries about you, you know,” she responds, “and well, I think we’re all privy to seeing you go through a fit of depression. For better or worse, we’re actually friends now.”

“Thanks?” he’s not entirely sure how he should respond.

“And Jared thinks that you need help,” she makes a face he can’t properly read, “not that I’m a therapist or anything, but if you have something you’d like to say. I can listen.”

And there it was. Jared really wants Richard to just talk about things? As if things are that easy? Just wants him to go out and openly genuinely say that everyone in the world is dead because of him? Richard scoffs.

“There isn’t anything I _can_ say,” Richard assures her, “what’s there to say? Does anything even matter anymore?” Richard wonders how Gilfoyle’s dealt with any of this.

Monica shrugs, hands coming to a halt although still in his hair, “you can sleep if you want, then.”

Richard sighs and holds it in. He’s always tired, always exhausted. He doesn’t really find the good side of anything anymore. He shuts his eyes and exhales slowly. And then he does it again. Monica puts the notebook on his chest, but keeps one of her hands in his hair. She keeps writing with the other.

He doesn’t know when he wakes up, because Monica’s gone. She’s huddled over by Gilfoyle’s corner with Dinesh and Jared. He rubs at his eyes and makes his way over, sleep keeping him in a haze.

“You can stay if you want. We’re not gonna drag you out there,” Monica says to Dinesh as Richard approaches them.

“Richard,” Jared acknowledges him first, “we were just discussing whether someone should stay behind.”

“Oh,” Richard says, blinking himself awake, “is anyone going to?”

“We could,” Dinesh says, looking at him.

“I’m fine with that,” Gilfoyle says. He’s also the only one sitting down.

“Well, if you want to stay, Richard,” Jared moves over to stand next to him, “I’m sure we can-”

“No, uh. No, it’s fine. I’ll… go,” Richard says with a curt nod that he hopes is more confident than he feels.

“I don’t want to stay here by myself, then,” Dinesh says with a shrug, “fuck it, we’ll all die.”

That gets a laugh out of Gilfoyle. Monica rolls her eyes. Jared looks at Richard.

“Are you sure? You didn’t want to earlier,” Jared asks.

“Uh, yeah. I- well, I have to see it eventually, right? And I’m already starving. It’s like Dinesh said, right? Fuck it. I may as well just see what’s out there… or die, I guess,” Richard says with a shrug of his own. He walks back to the corner that was designated as his, opposite from Gilfoyle and diagonally across from Monica. He finds the rug he’s been sleeping on and lets himself fall onto it. The landing is always rough but he can never bring himself to care more than a second after he’s hit the ground. He’s got bruises all over himself from the landings, but it’s not like anyone can see those. 

It’s also all he can really bring himself to do as of late. He just lays on the floor. Gilfoyle has found out he can draw and over the past few months has been working on decorating all the walls with intricate etchings and mild satanic imagery. Dinesh has been working out. Monica has been writing something. And Jared, well, Jared has been taking care of Richard. Something Richard also feels bad about.

“So, tomorrow,” Gilfoyle says from across the room. Loud enough so that everyone can hear, but not loud enough to give any sign of emotion. 

“Tomorrow?” Richard asks, sitting up. The anxiety pooling in his stomach is telling him this is a bad idea.

“Is there any reason to wait longer?” Gilfoyle asks, still across the room. 

“Well, no... I don’t think so,” Richard says, his voice trailing off at the end. 

“Tomorrow, then,” Gilfoyle says, confirming. Richard nods to himself in an attempt to assure himself that everything is going to be fine. It’s not, he knows this. The anxiety that’s making his chest compress is saying so. But, it’s not like he can go back on it now.

He spends the remainder of the day on the ground. With his eternal exhaustion, he’s able to go in and out of sleep for hours. He notices Jared come by several times, but pretends to be asleep. Richard’s depressed, he doesn’t need anyone else to remind him of that. It’s fine.

Eventually, when all the others have gone to sleep, Richard finds himself fully awake. The lights are all off save for the dim red light coming from the clock that had been set up when Russ was intending on using the bunker. It reads 3:34 AM. Richard sighs. He rubs his hands over his face and sits up. He looks around to see things set up for the day before, things everyone else did while Richard killed time by wallowing in his own feelings. There’s a pile of letters on a table and some rounded welding goggles thrown around. Richard wonders why the hell Russ would have something like that in a fallout shelter as he takes a look at the letters. They’re all in the event of catastrophe. 

Monica’s is intricate, talking about who they all were and how she was able to live with them for so long. Dinesh’s tries to do the same but is not as eloquent and spends more time talking about Gilfoyle. Gilfoyle’s is mostly bank, and just reads ‘tough shit.’ Jared’s is lengthy, going into detail about how it wasn’t Richard’s fault. That’s kind of him, he thinks. 

It was Richard’s fault. And he’s a grown man. He doesn’t need anyone to try and soften that blow for him. 

He passes the letters, wondering if he should leave one of his own. And what would he write? A long note explaining how Pied Piper should have remained a music app? An explanation of what Pied Piper was supposed to be? He had no idea. What he decides now, is that if he was going to face the rotten, putrid fruits of his labour. He’d face them looking his best. It’s a dream that lasts a few minutes. 

He sits in the shower with the water running on him, still fully dressed, for several minutes before he tries to undress, realizing that this fit of theatrics was maybe _too_ inconvenient. He sighs with his shirt only halfway off of him. It hangs in front of his face, a wet testament to Richard’s state of being for the past year. He should probably try and take the rest of it off, but he’s tired now. 

A soft knock comes at the door and he leans over to look at the door, realizing that he can’t see through his shirt. 

“Give- give me a second,” Richard says in his regular voice. It’s late and there’s no noise to prevent anyone outside from hearing him. 

“Richard?” It’s Jared. Of course it is. 

“Yeah, yeah. One sec,” Richard says, continuing the fight with his shirt. It’s fruitless. It ends up back on him completely. 

“Are you okay?” Jared asks.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Richard wonders if he should give up on the shower. Maybe it’s not the best idea. The end of the world won’t really give a shit what he looks like. 

“You’re not… hurting yourself, are you?” Jared asks. The concern in his voice gives Richard anxiety.

“I- what? _No_ , I’m- here. I’m coming out,” Richard says. He gets up and steps out of the shower, immediately regretting it. The bathroom is cold and sloshing his way over to the door is the worst thing he’s ever done. “See?” Richard says, opening the door, “I’m not… trying to kill myself or anything.”

Jared’s look of relief lasts a second and is exchanged for a look of pity. Richard’s inclined to slap it off his face, but he can’t bring forth the energy to. Instead he stands his ground as best he can. He’s aware that he’s standing in the bathroom doorway, fully clothed and dripping wet. 

“Do you need help? Were you trying to shower?” the tenderness in Jared’s voice is giving Richard even more anxiety. 

“I- yeah. I was, but. That’s okay. I’m just gonna.. not,” Richard says with a bit of a curt nod.

“You’re already in here. And you’ve left the water on,” Jared notes. Richard feels the anxiety sink further in his chest. 

“I- I guess I could, um. I should, right? I can. Um, did you have to use the bathroom? Is that why you’re up?” Richard says as he sloshes backwards, giving Jared room to step inside so he can step out. 

“Here, then,” Jared takes a step inside and guides Richard back toward the bathtub, “I can help with this.”

“Jared, I-” Richard starts as he backs away. Now this, this is embarrassing and borderline humiliating. How could Jared tell Richard had issues with getting his wet clothes off? Is that what he assumed? No, no. It’s fine. It’s absolutely fine. Richard can do it. He was just being dramatic. 

“Richard, you’ve been in here for over an hour. At best you’re having a depressive episode and at worst you’re wasting water,” Jared cuts him off, the concern in his voice still audible. He’s never actually been mad at Richard, save for that time at Hooli-Con. Even now, when Richard thinks he should be, at least, a little irritated, he’s not. 

“I- yeah. Okay,” Richard says. He hadn’t realized he’d been sitting under the water for that long. He raises his arms to look at his fingers. They look like an old man’s. Jared’s right. When Richard looks back at Jared, he’s already taken a seat on the edge of the bathtub.

“Here,” Jared gingerly reaches for the hem of Richard’s shirt. It’s heavy cold material, Richard realizes. He shivers as Jared guides it over his shoulders and then over his head entirely. Richard is grateful, although he won’t admit it. He doesn’t think he would have been able to do it by himself.

He sees Jared reach for the button of his jeans and takes a step backwards, “I-I got this one, it’s fine, I’m fine,” he says, reaching down and fiddling with the button. He can’t get it out. The wet denim is doing him no favours. 

“Are you sure? If you’re concerned about anything, I can promise you my intentions here are good,” Jared says. 

“Yeah, I-” Richard pauses as he keeps trying to get the button in the hole. He’s almost got it, he’s sure of it. It’s rough and refuses to get in the hole, but he’s almost got it. A flush appears on his cheeks as the coldness of the room fades into the heat of embarrassment. He’s standing there, trying to undress himself in front of Jared just to prove that he can, and he can’t. Good thing Jared wasn’t a lover he was trying to impress. Imagine that.

He sighs, frustrated by the fact that his own jeans are betraying him. 

“I can-” Jared starts, before Richard cuts him off.

“Okay, okay. Just fucking do it,” Richard says as he takes the final step towards Jared. Sure enough, Jared gets it off with no problem. He touches only the hem of Richard’s jeans, respectfully. Richard appreciates the fact that he undid the button and pulled his hands away.

“If you need anything,” Jared says, standing up, “I’ll probably be awake for the next hour or three.”

Richard nods and watches him leave. The door shuts behind him and Richard takes a deep breath. He’s really not going to be able to do this on his own, is he? He’s determined to try, though. He finishes stripping, steps back into the water and agonizes over getting the shampoo, the soap; everything. But, in the end he gets it done. He steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and he makes eye contact with Jared, who’s sitting with his back against the wall at his designated space with a book in his lap. Jared gives him a soft smile and a thumbs up before going back to the book.

Had he… waited for Richard to be done? He couldn’t be sure. And he wasn’t going to ask. 

Richard dresses himself in the cleanest clothes he has and makes his way back to his spot on the ground. He doesn’t fall back asleep, but he hopes Jared did. 

At some point he hears Gilfoyle get up. He showers and Monica gets up a little later. He fades back into sleep for the next couple of hours. The next time he jerks completely awake, everyone’s huddled by Gilfoyle’s corner again, talking rather loudly.

“And that’s just how we go? Russ didn’t have any special things made? No armoured suits? No metal plates?” Dinesh asks as Richard finds the will to sit up and look in their direction.

“I don’t suppose you think that wearing a sheet of tin foil is going to save you from any potential nuclear radiation,” Gilfoyle says in response.

“I would really rather not think about that?” Monica adds, “if we’re gonna do it, we should just do it.”

“Right. And if we’re vaporized or suffer any irreversible chemical burns from radiation, well, we’ll just figure that out when we get there,” Jared tries to stay positive. He’s not doing so well, but he’s trying.

Richard keeps looking in their direction for a few seconds longer in what he hopes is a sleepy daze. He’s not entirely there right now. Gilfoyle makes eye contact with him and raises his eyebrows at Richard. Richard doesn’t really respond. 

“Should we… wake Richard, then?” Monica asks, her back’s turned to Richard. None of them, save for Gilfoyle, have noticed that he’s awake. 

“I was thinking about that… I don’t know if he’s in the right headspace to-” Jared says, only stopping to jerk his head in Richard’s direction when Richard speaks up.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jared,” Richard says, his tone bitter. Jared gives him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, Richard,” Jared says, keeping the apologetic look on his face, “it’s not my place to speak for you.”

“That’s right,” Richard says, standing up. He’s still not entirely there. The room around him seems just a little distant and he seems to be moving at a slightly slower speed, “we should just go now.”

“Now?” Gilfoyle asks. 

“Yeah. If we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, right?” Richard shrugs. He reaches over to put on a jacket from the dirty pile of clothes he keeps near the rug he sleeps on, “and if it’s all the same to all of you, I’m about ready to fucking die as it is. Humour me, yeah?” 

“Richard-” Jared starts. Richard cuts him off again.

“No, Jared. I’m being facetious. Let’s just go,” Richard puts the hood of the jacket up and rubs his hands over his face. He’s amped himself up for the inevitable doom or the inevitable crushing realization that whatever’s outside is entirely his fault. Or both.

“That works for me,” Gilfoyle says, following Richard over to the large doors that kept the bunker sealed. 

“Well, here. We should take these, at least?” Dinesh says as he takes the pile of rounded welding goggles and hands them out. He gives Gilfoyle a defeatist expression when he says, “humour me? Can you do this one fucking thing for me, _please_?”

“Anything for you, dear,” Gilfoyle says, the sarcasm dripping from his tone as he takes a pair from Dinesh as everyone else approaches the door. Everyone ends up with a set of the goggles. 

Richard and Gilfoyle work through the doors many locks and as Gilfoyle finishes getting through all the security, Richard takes one last look at his friends. By just the looks of them, you wouldn’t really be able to tell they’d been in a bunker with each other for nearly a year. Monica stopped wearing makeup a long time ago and everyone’s a little slimmer, save for Richard who’s probably anemic now, but otherwise, still the same. 

The door hisses as the pressure keeping it shut is released. Richard slips the goggles on and turns to look at the door. He takes a deep breath and doesn’t exhale. Gilfoyle takes a step back so he’s standing next to Dinesh. Jared takes a step forward and puts a hand on Richard’s shoulder. 

Richard’s too caught up in his dissociative fit to notice. The world is going to look like a desolate wasteland, like in all the movies he’d seen, like in all the video games he’d played. The guilt that rises in his chest, that threatens to burst from his eyes makes him glad that Dinesh insisted on the goggles. 

The door hisses for the last time and finally slides up completely and a thick putrid yellow looking fog slowly seeps into the bunker. Dinesh screams.

“Fuck! Fuck! That’s it! We’re--” Dinesh stops screaming when he realizes they’re all standing in the fog now. 

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Gilfoyle says, taking point. Richard feels like every step he takes is weighted. Jared’s kept his hand on Richard’s shoulder and it’s currently functioning as Richard’s anchor. 

Monica and Dinesh follow behind Gilfoyle with Jared and Richard at the back. They step through more dense fog until they come to a pile of rubble that was once the rest of Russ’ mansion. It’s a lot of rubble. Gilfoyle picks up one of the larger wooden splinters and uses it as a way to test the ground he and everyone else is going to be stepping on.

“The goggles were a good idea, I’ll concede to that,” Gilfoyle says, turning to look at Dinesh.

“I can’t believe it took the literal apocalypse for you to acknowledge that I have good ideas,” Dinesh says, almost absentmindedly. He’s looking around at the street they’re passing.

“And I can’t believe that the world had to end in order for you to finally have good ideas,” Gilfoyle retorts.

“Fuck you, I have good ideas,” Dinesh mutters, taking a step forward so he’s walking alongside Gilfoyle. 

Monica turns back to Richard and Jared.

“Are you okay, Richard?” she asks. Jared looks down at him with a concerned expression.

Richard hears her, but there’s an echo to her voice. He blinks repeatedly under the goggles and he opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. It takes him several seconds to attempt and eventually say, “yeah.”

Jared keeps the hand on his shoulder. Monica gives him an apologetic expression and continues walking. 

Around them the houses that are visible are mostly leveled and surrounded by the fog and dead vegetation. If Richard were in his right mind, he would note that it _is_ like the movies and games. 

“Hey guys,” Monica says, stopping. Jared brings Richard to a halt and Dinesh and Gilfoyle turn to look at her.

“What the fuck is that?” she asks, pointing to a large white wall in the distance. Large is actually an understatement. It’s at least thirty feet high. 

“That definitely wasn’t here a year ago,” Gilfoyle says with a slight cough.

“Should we go see what it is?” Jared asks.

“I don’t suppose there is any other plan,” Gilfoyle responds, “other than wandering this wasteland.”

“Weird fucking wall it is,” Monica says, taking point now. 

“Richard?” Jared says, only now moving his hand off of Richard’s shoulder, “are you feeling okay?”

Richard still hears the echo. And without Jared’s hand keeping him grounded, the tension in his stomach is too much to bear. He takes a step toward the sidewalk and drops to his knees, violently throwing up stomach acid and water.

The others turn to watch it unfold. Jared rushes to Richard’s side and helps him stand upright again.

“I’m fine,” Richard says, not sounding confident whatsoever. 

“Could that be the radiation?” Dinesh asks to no one in particular.

“Unlikely,” Gilfoyle starts walking again, “Richard’s problem is he thinks he is the one responsible for all of this. We all know this. Despite the fact that he knows there was no way of predicting this would happen, despite the fact that he knows that _I_ am the one who wrote the script that created the noise. And that _you,_ Dinesh, are the one who deployed it. And that _I_ am the one who let you deploy it because Richard couldn’t make the call. Richard’s problem is he doesn’t think anyone’s actions but his own have any consequence.”

“H-how- How can you fucking say that?” Richard asks. He takes a heavy step forward, the panic in his chest rising enough to ground him for the moment, “you wrote a script for _my_ code. My algorithm is what got us-- _the world_ into this fucking mess. My hands coded Pied Piper, my hands may as well have fucking nuked the world!” Richard says. In another second he feels like he’s running out of breath. He’s gasping for air as he loses his balance. Jared catches him and sets him down closer to the ground. Richard kneels and sets his palms down on the ground; he’s on all fours trying to figure out why he suddenly can’t breathe. 

“Look what you did, Gilfoyle,” Dinesh says, scandalized. 

“Panic attack or not, I’m not wrong,” Gilfoyle says with a shrug, “but, he needs to understand that there was no way of knowing. It’s not his fault.”

“Jared’s been way ahead of you with that one,” Monica says as the three of them watch Jared whisper things to Richard on the ground.

“I’m not the one in love with Richard,” Gilfoyle says with a final shrug before turning around and continuing the walk towards the wall. Dinesh gives the two on the ground a final glance before following Gilfoyle.

Monica approaches Richard and Jared. Richard’s started to respond to whatever Jared’s saying to him.

“Come on, Richard,” Jared whispers softly, “sing it with me.”

Richard’s breathing has stabilized. In between shorter, more controlled breaths he responds, “you make me happy when skies are grey.” It’s not really sung, but Jared’s face lights up regardless.

“Good, good,” Jared says, coaxing him into a sitting position. “It’s a simple way of grounding yourself that I picked up in therapy. You find something you know is constant, something you know is real and you repeat it. Like a mantra. That song’s basically a nursery rhyme. Anything will work, though.”

Richard takes a deeper breath and rubs his face with his hands. He can’t necessarily find a place to be in the dark right now, so this’ll have to do. He tries to control his breathing further. 

Monica takes a look back at Gilfoyle and Dinesh and then back at Jared and Richard. She puts her hand on Richard’s shoulder and attempts to help him up.

“We should go. Gilfoyle and Dinesh are up ahead,” she looks back at them. They’re a good ways away now and it doesn’t look like they’ll be stopping.

“Can you get up?” Jared asks, putting his arm around Richard’s other side. 

“I can walk, just give me a second,” Richard says from behind his own hands. Monica and Jared back away and Richard takes several final deep breaths before forcing himself up and taking off without another word to either Monica or Jared. Jared gives Monica a shrug and an expression as if to say ‘what can you do?’

Monica rolls her eyes and follows after Richard.

Richard catches up with Dinesh and Gilfoyle as they approach the wall. It’s at least thirty feet tall and right out of any dystopian movie. The world around them is a hazy yellow, decomposing green and sharp blacks. This wall is pristine white and goes on for what appears to be miles. Richard, Gilfoyle, and Dinesh stand in silence as Monica and Jared catch up. 

“What the fuck is this?” Dinesh asks as they head down the side of the wall. It had to lead somewhere, right?

“A wall,” Gilfoyle says.

“I can see that, you dick. It’s a general question. Is it keeping something in? Something out? Are there other people that survived this?” Dinesh responds.

“The fact that you think there’s a chance that we are the only survivors is more than enough reason to kill myself,” Gilfoyle says, “and judging by how high the wall goes, I’d say it’s a community of survivors.”

Richard’s eyes widen a little, “you think so?” he asks.

“Yes! Survivors! Humanity working together to rebuild anew…” Jared muses. Gilfoyle snorts in response.

“I will bet you my left hand that what’s happening in there is a totalitarian regime under the guise of a paradise,” Gilfoyle says.

“You can’t really believe the shit you see in movies, Gilfoyle,” Monica says. A breeze blows her hair back slightly.

“I will concede that it’s used for drama in movies, but it’s also the nature of people. How many people do you think are capable of murder? I’d kill Dinesh for no reason,” Gilfoyle says, walking beside Dinesh.

“You so much as touch me you disgusting Canadian, I’ll kill you myself,” Dinesh retorts. 

“No one’s killing anyone!” Monica snaps, “none of us are murderers. We’re good people incapable of doing something as drastic as that.”

“This world will change you, Monica. I don’t have to be a clairevoyant to tell you that. Look at all of us now. We’re friends,” Gilfoyle says.

“Fair,” Monica concedes. 

The conversation dies down as they reach the end of the wall. It turns a corner, goes on for about another two or three miles, and concludes at a singular entrance in the shape of a giant lowercase H.

“What. The. Fuck,” Monica says.

“Oh no,” Jared adds.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Dinesh shares Monica’s sentiment. 

Richard stands there, mouth agape in abstract horror. He shouldn’t be surprised. With all the money Gavin Belson had to throw around, it’s no real surprise that he found a way to not only survive, but also to begin to rebuild. And yet. And yet, Richard stands there. Horrified at the thought of one of the worst people he’s ever known still being alive. Offended, even. Gavin Belson should not be here. Dead? Richard isn’t wishing that. He just wishes Gavin wasn’t here in the moment.

“So…” Dinesh asks, giving everyone a curious look.

“Well, looks like you can ask to suck Gavin’s dick in person,” Gilfoyle says, taking point once again. 

“Oh, fuck off. I’m sure it’s nice in there,” Dinesh says, following him.

“I would think so, too,” Jared adds.

“If Gavin is still in charge, it’s probably extravagant for apocalypse standards for sure,” Monica says as they all make their way towards the entrance.

“So, what’s the plan for when we get there? Are we going to ask Gavin for help? For lodging?” Richard asks. He doesn’t want to do either of those things, but he’ll admit to being curious as to what Gavin could have built during the literal apocalypse. 

“My vote is we take a look at what made this work and we figure a way to replicate it,” Gilfoyle says.

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Dinesh muses, “he spent so long trying to replicate Pied Piper.”

“It doesn’t really matter now,” Richard says, taking a deep breath and coughing as soon as the air hit his lungs.

“This is about survival now,” Jared adds.

“We can probably do what he did but better,” Monica says.

“Or we can just kill him and take whatever compound he’s built.”

“Gilfoyle!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for reading! leave some love if you enjoyed. x

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please do let me know. I have so many ideas for this. I'd love any support!


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